Birthday Hoopla
An erotic story celebrating life and sinful pleasures at any age
I look at my watch to see it’s four o’clock. It’s the last long weekend of the summer, and I decide it’s unnecessary and unfair to make my assistant of three years work until the bitter end of the day. I pick up the phone, dial her three-digit extension and say, “Carol, can I see you for a second?”
The twenty-nine-year-old walks into my office with a notepad and pen, looking like a vision of summer, wearing a red, ditsy floral print high-rise midi skirt and a cute white tank top. She sits in one of two chairs in front of my desk, adjusting her rich, long, chocolate-brown hair behind her ear, and flashes a smile that makes me wish I was twenty years younger.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Winters?” she asks slightly suggestively.
“You can take the rest of the day off.”
“That’s not necessary, sir. I can stick around if you want me.”
“I’ll always want you, Carol. I mean, need you,” I say quickly, slightly embarrassed by my word choice. “But you can take the rest of the day off. I’m sure you’d rather start the long weekend with other young people than a man of my years in a musty office.”
